“It ain’t fair! Yer didn’t give me no show!”
The crowd uttered a shout of derision.
“You’re licked!” cried many voices.
“Dat’s right,” said the fellow who had restrained the boys from aiding the bully. “An’ if dat kid can lick him, I can do it, too! You ain’t der boss of dis gang no more, Squinty.”
“Get up!” panted Dick Merriwell, whose cheeks were flushed and whose eyes gleamed. “Get up, and I’ll give you some more of the same sort!”
“He don’t want it!” laughed many.
“You’re a dandy, young fellow!” cried a man. “I’ve seen good men in my day, but I never saw one handle himself better than you can. You’ll make a world-beater if you’ll train for the ring.”
Squinty Jim sat up.
“My brother’ll make somebody sorry fer dis!” he declared. “He kin lick any old t’ing in dis town!”
“His brother is Bud McCann, the prize-fighter,” said somebody. “He’s playing baseball this year.”